


Ser Pounce-a-Lot's Big Adventure

by sbdrag



Series: The Big Adventures Series [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Slavery, Multi, Shenanigans, and tarleton is delilah's son, figured she might name him after their grandfather, i fell like pounce would be really vain, it's an adventure alright, just from Anders calling him wonderful all the time, just having some fun with minor characters, mabaris and cats and children oh my, mostly - Freeform, never explicit, seriously no idea where this all came from
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ser Pounce-a-Lot has learned that his beloved human Anders is alive and well in the city of Kirkwall. So he bravely sets off on a quest to find him - with some help from his trusty sidekicks, Tarleton Howe and Grace the mabari.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this idea just popped into my head and I'm rolling with it. Should end up being at least three in the series.

Ser Pounce-a-Lot was basking in the sunlight. Delilah Howe's home was good for that - very good, in fact. There was a window with a ledge built in, almost if it had been built just for cats to soak up the sunlight. For some reason the humans kept putting pies on it, but they were easy enough to knock over. Delilah was in the kitchen, humming as she washed the dishes. 

The cat purred as someone started scratching his head. He stretched, then opened his eyes. 

 _Ah, of course_ , he thought,  _little Tarly._

Tarleton Lathbora Howe, named for his grandfather and the Hero of Fereldan respectively, was all of six years old. He had a shock of black hair on his head in need of a trim, and a missing front tooth. His gray eyes sparkled as he grinned, and her reached up to pull the cat into his arms. He wrapped his arms around the cat's middle, carrying him over to the fire. 

Ser Pounce made a grumble of complaint, but let it be. He was, after all, the greatest cat in all of Thedas - he could handle the attentions of a little human. Even if they were uncomfortable attentions.

There was a knock on the door, and Delilah stopped humming to answer it. 

"Nathaniel! You're back!"

"Hello, Delilah." The Warden pulled his sister into a hug.

Ser Pounce struggled, slipping out of Tarly's grasp. He darted across the floor to greet his fellow Grey Warden - it was only proper, after all. 

"I'm so glad you're safe - I was so worried!"

Nathaniel chuckled. "So the Champion of Kirkwall told me. And you'll never believe who was with her when they found me."

Ser Pounce  _meow_ ed, letting Nathaniel know he was there.

"Unca Nat'anel!" Tarly ran up as well, arms spread wide.

"Tarly! Look how you've grown!" The Warden swept the young lad into his arms.

Tarleton giggled, hugging his uncle around the neck.

Nathaniel rested him on his hip, smiling. The smile was edged with sadness - it seemed to be a common Warden trait, if the Hero was anything to go by. There were light bags developing under the man's eyes as well, evidence that things had not gone well in Kirkwall.

Ser Pounce, being the most intelligent cat in all of Thedas, noticed these things right away. Being a Grey Warden himself, he understood them quite well. And so he swallowed his pride and rolled onto his back, mewing.  _Humans find the strangest things comforting - like giving me belly rubs._

Nathaniel chuckled again, leaning down to accept the offered comfort.

_Yes, yes - I am such a kind soul, I know._

"You'll like this news, too, Pounce. I saw Anders."

 _Ser_ Pounce was on his feet at once. " _Mrrow?"_

"Anders?" Delilah ushered her brother inside, closing the door. 

"I told you that you wouldn't believe me. It turns out he's alive - just... in Kirkwall."

"But... why? I thought the Templars..."

"We all did. I have to go and report to the Commander right away."

Ser Pounce mewed in agreement.  _The Commander would certainly want to know something so important!_

"Anders?" Tarly tilted his head.

Nathaniel sighed. "That's right - you were very young then, just a babe. Anders was - is - another Grey Warden. In fact, he was Ser Pounce-a-Lot's master."

 _"Mrrow!_ _"_  Though master was not entirely accurate, he certainly was Ser Pounce's human. How dare he leave the best cat in all Thedas behind!

"Pounce's master? But... Pounce is ours!" Tarly frowned, puffing out his cheeks.

Delilah sighed, taking Tarly into her arms. "No, sweet thing, we were watching Pounce for him - Warden work is dangerous, after all."

Ser Pounce snorted, and began cleaning himself.  _Hardly. Genlocks bleed just like mice._

Tarly struggled to be put down, and his mother complied. The boy laid down flat on the floor, to be eye-level with the cat. "Pounce, d'ya want to stay wif us? Or go to Kirkwah?"

Nathaniel chuckled, shaking his head. "No one is going back to Kirkwall right now, Tarly. And I don't think Anders plans on coming back, either."

The little boy grinned, shooting to his feet. "Then Pounce stays wif us!"

Ser Pounce paused in his cleaning. Stay here? With Anders alive? It was tempting, of course - lazing about, getting food and milk every night, basking in the perfect cat window.... but no. Anders was his human.

The humans had moved to the kitchen, and were sitting around talking. Except for Tarly, of course, who was playing with a new toy his uncle had brought him - a miniature knight. Ser Pounce watched them a moment, then looked to the open window. 

He leapt up, then looked back one more time.

 _Well, if no one else is going to take me,_ he resolved,  _I suppose I better go to this Kirkwall myself._

With that, the cat leapt to the ground and made his way to the docks. Surely one of those big things on the water were going to Kirkwall.


	2. Chapter 2

Ser Pounce-a-Lot was beginning to rethink this whole adventure idea after a cold night in an alley. As it turned out, figuring out which of the things on the water was going to Kirkwall was a lot harder than he thought. Despite being the most glorious cat in all of Thedas, no one was paying him much attention.

 

 _A Grey Warden must persevere in the face of hardship,_ he reminded himself. He had, after all, ingested darkspawn blood and survived - that made him a Grey Warden, he knew it did. Not that anyone had bothered to hold a special ceremony for him, like they did for the humans. He assumed it was simply because his magnificence was so obvious that no ceremony was needed. 

 

The cat snorted, and jumped on top of a barrel. He surveyed the docks, where all the humans were busy doing whatever it was humans did. There had to be a way to figure out which one of those tall pointy things was going to Kirkwall - but how?

 

"Pounce! Pounce! Where are you?"

 

The young voice cut through the dull roar of the crowd, and was followed by a deep bark.

 

Ser Pounce turned his head at the voice and bark. He knew both very well - after all, it would not due not to recognize a fellow Grey Warden, even if he was a  _dog_.

 

Tarly Howe frowned, putting his hands down. He had been looking for the cat all morning, but so far had had no luck. His mother had assured him that Pounce was simply having some fun, and would be back soon. "Do you think he's all right, Grace?"

 

The mabari  _wuff_ ed softly. He had strikingly white fur, all but the red tips of his ears. He was the companion to the Commander of the Grey himself. He usually stayed by his master's side, but Lathbora had been in  _very important meetings_ all morning, and  _very important meetings_ tended to be very, very boring. At least, they were in Grace's opinion. So he had come to visit Tarly, only to find the boy distraught over the missing Ser Pounce-a-Lot.

 

Grace still did not know what great deed the cat had done to earn his knighthood, but he did know that he was a fellow Grey Warden. And so he had readily agreed to help find his brother in arms - after all, he might be in trouble.

 

Ser Pounce snorted, then leapt down from the barrel and bounded over to the boy and dog. Perhaps  _they_ would know which one of the pointy things was going to Kirkwall.

 

"Pounce!" Tarly spotted him first, and ran up to the cat to pull him into a fierce hug.

 

Ser Pounce mewed in distress at the tight grip, and slipped out of the grip to land on the ground.

 

Grace barked happily, tag wagging. He stepped forward to check the cat over for injuries, snuffling noisily.  _Are you alright, Ser?_

 

 _I'm fine, brother. I'm trying to get to Kirkwall._ Ser Pounce sat, licking his fur flat where Tarly had mussed it. 

 

Grace whined, sitting a well.  _Kirkwall?_

 

_Yes. I discovered that Anders is alive._

 

Grace jumped to his feet and barked happily, tag wagging even more fiercely.  _So_ that's  _why the Commander is in very important meetings today!_

 

Ser Pounce nodded.  _Of course, it only makes sense. Anders is very important._

 

The mabari barked smartly, sitting straight as possible.  _Then I must help you!_

 

Ser Pounce snorted, then turned to Tarly and mewed.  _If you must._

 

The little boy crouched down. "What is it, Pounce? Why did you run away?"

 

The cat mewed indignantly.  _I did not run away, I am on a very important quest!_

 

Tarly sniffled. "Are you really going back to that other Warden? Anders?"

 

Ser Pounce nodded. Then he turned to Grace and meowed.

 

The mabari stood, and waited patiently as the cat leapt onto his back.

 

Ser Pounce settled, laying down between the dog's shoulders. He looked at the young Howe.  _Farewell, faithful little Tarly. Now, brother, we must find one of those things going to Kirkwall._

 

Grace whined questioningly.  _A boat?_

 

_Yes, of course, a boat._

 

Tarly stood, wiping at his eyes. "I'm going too!"

 

Grace _wuff_ ed in disagreement.  _It's too dangerous!_

 

 _Agreed._ Ser Pounce snorted.

 

Tarly, as if understanding the dog and cat, put his little hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. "Someday, I'm gonna be a Grey Warden jus' like Unca Nat'anel and Lathbora. I can't let you go alone! You might get hurt!"

 

Grace whined, ears going back.  _What do you think, Ser?_

 

Ser Pounce considered.  _Well, he does have a point. And every good knight needs a squire._

 

The mabari nodded.  _All the stories do say that._

 

The cat held his head up, then nodded graciously to the young boy.  _Very well, you may be my squire. Come along, young Tarly._

 

The boy reached out and scratched the cat between the ears, grinning. 

 

The three set off, Grace and Ser Pounce in the lead to find a boat that would take them to Kirkwall.

 

* * *

 

 

Kretchal was a crooked man, in both body and in spirit. He hunched over a wooden staff - his mage's staff, if he was being completely honest. He was rather grateful to the Hero of Fereldan - now he was no longer an apostate in this country. Of course, that had never stopped him before. And being a bent over and wizened as he was, no one ad ever questioned the staff as anything more than a walking stick. But it was reassuring to know that even if he was caught using magic, nothing would come of it.

 

Unless, of course, it was discovered he was a blood mage. Even the great Hero wasn't a fan of that. 

 

The Hero wasn't a fan of slavers, either, so perhaps being a mage wasn't the worst of Kretchal's problems. He was in the docks of Amaranthine - he usually stayed in Kirkwall, but the Champion had recently cleared out his base of operations. Damn the woman. Fortunately, the blood mage hadn't been there at the time, and so had come to Amaranthine to lay low.

 

Normally, clever man that he was, Kretchal wouldn't take laves from Fereldan. Especially not in the city that was ruled by the Hero of Fereldan. But when a young boy - accompanied by only a dog and a cat - was walking around the docks asking about a way to the very city he was returning to... ? Well, never let it be aid that Kretchal the Crooked ever let an opportunity escape him.

 

"Excuse me... young man?" The blood mage had to wheeze when he spoke - his crooked back made breathing difficult.

 

Tarly Howe turned at the voice, and waited for the old man to hobble up to him. The boy thought he looked rather fragile, and wondered why his family wasn't there to help him. "Yes?"

 

"Did I... hear right? You... want to go... to Kirkwall?" 

 

Grace grumbled.  _I don't like this old man. He smells like blood._

 

 _So do most Grey_ _Wardens,_ Pounce replied. 

 

Grace whined.  _The Commander doesn't._

 

_The Commander uses all those silly oils and baths in rosewater._

 

The mabari couldn't argue with the truth.

 

"Yes! I do want to go to Kirkwall! Pounce needs to get back to his master, Anders!"

 

Kretchal nodded, not having the slightest clue what the boy was blathering on about, but if it meant he could get the kid to go with him willingly, he would go with it. "Of course... of... course. It just... so happens... I am going... to Kirkwall... myself."

 

"You are? Do you live there? Is that why no one is wif you?"

 

Kretchal took in a reedy, wheezing breath. "Yes... yes, exactly. MY... grandson... was supposed to... come with me... but... he had... to stay. I... would... like very... very much if... you would... help me get... back."

 

"Of course! Unca Nat'anel says we ahways need to help people in trouble! Like the Hero of Fereldan!"

 

Kretchal tried to smile. He was missing several teeth, and it cam across as more of a grimace. "Oh... what a good... kind boy you... are. Thank... thank you... so much... young man."

 

Tarly smiled, puffing out his chest in pride.

 

Ser Pounce rolled his eyes.  _Looks like you were right, brother. We can't trust this one._

 

Grace growled.  _What should we do, Ser?_

 

_Nothing._

 

The mabari straightened, whining in confusion.

 

 _We let him get us to Kirkwall,_ then _we turn him into the authorities._

 

Grace barked happily.  _Oh, Ser, that's a good plan. You're very smart._

 

Ser Pounce sniffed, lifting his head.  _Of course. I'm the smartest cat in all of Thedas. Anders always told me so._

 

Grace barked in agreement.

 

Kretchal chuckled, leading the boy and his pets to the ship he was taking to Kirkwall. All it would take was a little lie and some more coin to the captain, and things would turn out very well for him.

 

* * *

 

 

Lathbora sighed, scratching at his hairline. He had been talking with his Wardens, trying to figure out what to do about Anders's lack of death. 

 

Sigrun wanted to go to Kirkwall right away, to strangle the man. She and the mage had been bosom buddies in short order, and the dwarf had been devastated when she thought he was dead. Given all she'd been through, Lathbora couldn't blame her.

 

Nathaniel thought they shouldn't do anything. He'd said that if Anders hadn't told them he was alive, it meant he didn't want them to know, and they should leave it at that. Lathbora didn't think that was what the man really felt - but he had been friends with the mage as well, and was trying to respect Anders's feelings. The Commander could understand that, as well.

 

 

Valenna had disappeared chasing after her sister a few months ago, but Lathbora could predict what she would have said. That they should go after him and drag him back whether he wanted to be here or not - though she would find some weak argument that didn't sound like she missed the human mage.

 

Oghren hadn't had an opinion either way, but had said he would follow Lathbora's lead. The Commander found the sentiment touching, but ultimately unhelpful.

 

The surprise had been Alistair - Bann Teagan had found him in Kirkwall, ironically enough, and had convinced him to come back to the Wardens. Their relationship had been strained since the former Templar's return, of course - Alistair still hadn't forgiven him for letting Loghain live. But the COmmander felt like they were slowly beginning to repair what had been broken. 

 

It was from Alistair that Lathbora had learned that Anders was using his magic for good - it seemed he had become a healer somehow. It wasn't the skill that Lathbora remembered - usually Anders was throwing fireballs while Lathbora healed and slashed his way through enemies. But knowing that Anders was using healing to help the unfortunate... it wasn't Warden work, but it was good work.

 

The Warden sighed again. Grace had wandered off as well - he could have used his mabari's comforting presence, but he couldn't blame the dog for leaving. They had been talking about the Anders issue all day, after all. 

 

The elf looked at the papers on his desk. They were reports from his Wardens - and the Architect's agents. He was using the inn at Redcliffe he'd... well, bullied his way into buying, if he was being honest, as a base for news. Bella was surprisingly good at getting information and sending it his way. Lathbora was beginning to suspect she rather liked the work. Still, none of that helped him figure out what to do about Anders.

 

He had made mages in Fereldan free. And he had never meant for the Wardens to be another cage - he didn't want to bring Anders back if the mage didn't want to be there. But as Commander, he had responsibilities - and Anders was subordinate. What example would he set if he did nothing?

 

The door to the Commander's office burst open, interrupting his thoughts.

 

"Commander! Oh, please, you must help!" It was Delilah, tears in her eyes and hair a mess.

 

Nathaniel was right behind his sister, a distraught looking Albert next to him.

 

Lathbora stood, coming around the desk to put his hands on the woman's shoulders. He tried to calm her down, to figure out what was wrong. He frowned; it was times like these that he regretted his inability to speak.

 

"It's-it's Tarleton! He's... he went looking for... for Pounce, and... and he's... he's..."

 

"Missing." Nathaniel's mouth was a thin line. "I asked around - a few people saw him get on a ship bound for Kirkwall."

 

Lathbora took a steadying breath. He met his Warden's eyes and nodded. Tarleton Howe was often seen at Vigil's Keep, playing at being a Warden. The young Howe was practically family to everyone.

 

Nathaniel nodded back in understanding. "I'll get the others - we'll wait for you in the main hall."

 

The Commander nodded. He lead Delilah to a settee against the wall, urging her to sit. He leaned in front of her, offering her a wan smile.

 

"You... you're going to find him, right?"

 

Albert came to sit next to his wife, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. His eyes were red, but he did not cry now. "We trust you, Commander. Please, bring our boy home."

 

Lathbora rose, taking a step back. He bowed to the couple, keeping his face serious to let them know he would not rest until the boy was found.

 

"Thank you." Delilah barely breathed the word. 

 

Lathbora nodded again, and left to go to the great hall.

 

"FInally. Tell me you're taking me with you." Sigrun stepped in front of the Commander as he entered, sneering.

 

Lathbora patted her shoulder, stepping past her. He looked around at those gathered, considering who, indeed, should go with him.

 

"Grace was with Tarly this morning," Nathaniel said. "Delilah said that's why she wasn't looking earlier."

 

Lathbora nodded, feeling a weight lift in his chest. His mabari was fiercely loyal, and if he wasn't here, he was still with Tarly. 

 

"I've been to Kirkwall before, I know... I know where the slavers are." Alistair had stumbled over the word, not wanting to consider the worst. But he schooled his expression, forcing himself to stand tall.

 

Lathbora frowned, feeling the weight settle again. Grace was formidable, but he was still only one dog. The Commander put a hand on the former Templar's shoulder, and nodded. The only one among them to live in Kirkwall for a time, it just made sense.

 

"I'll go even if you order me not to." Nathaniel kept his voice steady, but Lathbora could see the way his face had blanched at the mention of slavers. "He's my nephew, Commander."

 

Lathbora nodded again. He looked at the two remaining.

 

Oghren looked surprisingly serious. He had mellowed some since Lathbora had convinced him to keep in touch with Filda and their son - perhaps he could, on some level, understand what Delilah and Albert were feeling.

 

And then there was Sigrun. She looked angry, but the Commander knew it was a cover for her worry. He also knew that if he took her with them to Kirkwall, she would seek out Anders. They didn't need that kind of distraction.

 

Lathbora sighed, and pulled out his little chalkboard. Amongst his friends, he hardly used it anymore. But sometimes there were things that needed to be said with words, and not just feeling.

 

_I'm sorry, Sigrun. I'm taking Oghren._

 

"What!? You're taking that nuglicking-"

 

Lathbora held up a hand, and she stilled. He erased what he'd wrote, to say more.  _I need someone here to watch over Delilah and Albert._

 

Sigrun opened her mouth, angry retort clearly at the ready... then closed it. She grumbled to herself, paced a bit, then spat. "Fine. But you better bring him back!"

 

Lathbora nodded. He turned to head towards his quarters, only to find Captain Garevel and Mistress Woolsey behind him.

 

The captain handed him his greatsword, nodding. "Good luck, Commander."

 

Lathbora strapped it onto his back, nodding in thanks. 

 

Mistress Woolsey stepped forward with a pack of supplies, sniffing. "I don't see why you feel the need to go yourself when you have all these soldiers to do it for you, but never the less you will be amply prepared. Soldiers outside will have supplies for the rest of you."

 

Lathbora nodded his thanks again, offering the woman a small smile. She could be grumpy, but he knew he had a good heart.

 

Mistress Woolsey nodded sharply, turning on her heel.

 

Lathbora turned to his party, mout set in a grim line. He nodded to them, and headed towards the door. Nathaniel. Alistair, and Oghren fell into step behind him. One way or the other, they were on their way.


	3. Chapter 3

Tarly  _loved_ being on the boat. He had never been on a boat before, it was all very exciting to him.

 

Kretchal wheezed, ambling after the boy. This was why he had underlings; to chase after excitable little boys. He was brains, not brawn.

 

Grace barked, happily dancing around the boy. He had never been on a boat before, either, and also found it very exciting. 

 

Ser Pounce-a-Lot, however, had decided he didn't like boats. He was huddled in the middle of some ropes, trying to sleep away the nauseating feeling all the rocking back and forth did to him.  But he would persevere - Anders was worth it. He had to remind himself of that more than once, but it still felt true. Mostly.

 

"Is that it?" Tarly hung half over the side of the bow, pointing at the approaching archway.

 

Kerchal leaned heavily on his staff. "Yes... those are... the Twins..."

 

Tarly tilted his head, looking at the giant statues as the boat passed under them. "Why are they bent over like that? It looks like they're crying."

 

"Because... they are... slaves."

 

"What's a slave?"

 

Kerchal patted the boy's head. "Oh... nothing you... need trouble yourself... about."  _Yet,_ he thought to himself. 

 

Grace whined. He didn't really know what a slave was, either, but he knew his master didn't like them. And had stopped them in Denerim. He padded over to Ser Pounce.  _SHould we be going to a slave city, Ser?_

 

 _Anders is there. Now leave me alone._ The cat resettled, turning his back to the mabari.

 

Grace whined again, padding back over to Tarly. He sat next to the boy.

 

Tarly hugged the big dog. "Don't worry, Grace. We'll find Anders - he's a Warden, he'll help us."

 

The dog turned to lick the boy's face.  _Of course!_

 

Kerchal shook his head at the display - dogs were such filthy creatures. He could not understand how anyone could let them slobber all over their face. The dog would have to be the first thing to go - once he hired some new men. There were always men looking for work in Kirkwall, it wouldn't take long to find new underlings.

 

They pulled into port shortly, but their departure was held up by a Templar. It seemed all ships from Fereldan were subject to search - in case of apostates, on Meredith's orders. Kerchal wasn't worried - the Templars in Kirkwall couldn't spot a mage if they were to perform magic right in front of them. The Champion of Kirkwall was a prime example of this.

 

So, after an hour or so of searching, they were finally let off the boat. They made an odd group - a wizened old man, a young boy, and a cat riding on a dog's back.

 

Once they reached land, Ser Pounce jumped from Grace's back.  _Keep track of Tarly - I'll find the authorities._

 

Grace barked his acceptance. 

 

Ser Pounce ran off, looking at all the people for someone that looked official.

 

"Pounce!" Tarly called, stepping after the cat.

 

Kerchal grabbed the boy's wrist harshly. "Leave the... mangy beast!"

 

"Ow! That hurts!" Tarly frowned, trying to pull away. 

 

Grace barked, then growled.

 

Noticing others looking at them, Kerchal released Tarly. "Sorry... it's just... very dangerous... in this city. I... don't want... you running off... and getting... hurt."

 

Tarly frowned, eyes prickling with tears as he rubbed his wrist. "Ok. But Pounce isn' mangy."

 

Kerchal nodded. "Of course... of course. Come along... boy. Help... me get... home... please?"

 

Tarly nodded, falling into step with the old man warily. 

 

Grace whined, sidling up to the boy.

 

Tarly wrapped an arm around the mabari, leaning into him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Ser Pounce padded through the throng of people on the docks. He reasoned it wouldn't be too hard to find a guard or something - they usually liked staying around docks. Good place for smugglers, or so he'd heard. 

 

"Guard Captain Vallen, please!"

 

The cat's ears perked forward at that. Not just a guard, but the guard captain? It was perfect. The cat ran towards the voice, and peered out from the crowd.

 

An orange haired woman in armor crossed her arms, sighing in irritation. A tan mabari sat on her heels, panting and looking around.

 

"Listen Gamlen, just because your Hawke's uncle doesn't mean I'm going to do you any favors. That pouch is full of contraband, and you're lucky I don't turn you over to the Templars for it."

 

"But it's just a little-"

 

"We both know what it is, Gamlen - and I don't know where you got it, and I don't want to know. I just want it  _gone_."

 

Ser Pounce padded up to the mabari, mewing.  _There's a boy in trouble, dog._

 

The mabari made a squeak of surprise, jumping up to face the cat.  _How did you know my name, cat?_

 

The cat snorted.  _I don't know your name. Are you part of the guard or not? There's a little boy in trouble!_

 

"What is it, Dog?" Aveline turned, noticing the exchange.

 

Dog barked.  _There's a boy in trouble! We have to go save him!_

 

Ser Pounce nodded, then started running off.  _This way!_

 

Dog barked again, and took off after the cat.

 

Aveline groaned. A dog following a cat, and of course she would have to go as well. What if it was important? She turned to glare at Gamlen. "I'd tell you not to go anywhere, but I doubt you'd listen."

 

Gamlen sputtered. "Messere-"

 

"Save it. Consider it your lucky day." The guard captain took off after the dog, wondering when she had started thinking chasing after animals was a sane thing to do.  _Probably when I met Hawke._

 

* * *

 

 

Being the Hero of Fereldan certainly had its perks. Lathbora had found a ship to take him and his companions within an hour of reaching Amaranthine - and at no cost. It had certainly helped that by saving the city, the Commander had also saved the captain's family. And many of the sailor's families as well - which was why they had rowed as well as used the wind, landing less than an hour behind the ship that carried Tarly.

 

When the Templar had come aboard, the Commander had brought out paperwork stating they were on official Warden business. Not that it was true, but Lathbora was willing to bend the rules to save time. 

 

So, when the sounds of battle on the docks reached them, the companions looked at each other before running into the thick of it.

 

There was a blood mage at the center of it - Lathbora grit his teeth, it was always a blood mage, wasn't it? And it looked like the man had used his blood to control the minds of some of the dock workers. Thought there were others, bandits and renegades, that joined in of their own accord. Seeing the woman in armor in the middle, the Commander wondered what she had done to garner such ire.

"That's the guard captain!" Alistair said.

 

Lathbora nodded. That would do it.

 

"I'll get their attention!" Alistair yelled, then he roared and bashed his shield into the nearest fighters. It definitely made him a target, and he fought his way to the woman in the middle. The warriors fell in back to back, drawing most of the crowd. Two mabari were with them as well, harassing the enemies from the outside. 

 

Nathaniel had his bow drawn, and fell back to fire from the shadows. He took a longer time between each shot, but that made sure each was deadly.

 

That left the blood mage to the Commander and Oghren. 

 

The dwarf hefted his axe. "You're the best, Commander!"

 

Lathbora rolled his eyes, pulling his greatsword off his back and drawing on the Fade, stepping halfway into it and fading to a ghostly shadow ashe charged noiselessly forward.

 

Oghren defended the Commander's flank as they cut through, straight to the mage in the center. Lathbora kept up a steady aura of healing, keeping them both in peak condition.

 

The wizened old man cackled breathily. "I'm in... a barrier... you... baffoun!" 

 

Lathbora rolled his eyes. He was halfway in the Fade - a Fade barrier wasn't exactly much of a challenge. The Commander stepped through, and lopped off the mage's head.

 

The mage killed, those he'd coerced with blood magic were freed. They immediately cleared the area.  
  


That was when a delighted Grace ran up to Lathbora, bowling the mage over. The mabari licked his master's face cheerfully, and the elf pushed him off, scratching behind his ears.

 

Aveline Vallen sheathed her sword, turning to Alistair. "Thank you for the assistance. And you are?"

 

"Alistair, Grey Warden. And these are all Grey Wardens, mage included - no need to call the Templars."

 

Lathbora shook his head, getting to his feet and brushing off the dust from his Warden Commander battlemage robes. 

 

Dog came to sit next to the Guard Captain.

 

Aveline snorted. "I'd like to know where all the bloody Templars were  _during_ the fight. Is there something you Wardens need?"

 

Nathaniel slung his bow over his back. "We're looking for a young boy, about yaeh high, with black hair and grey eyes. He was  _supposed_ to be with  _that_ mabari."

 

Grace whined, hiding behind Lathbora. 

 

The Commander gave his head a reassuring pat, pulling out his chalkboard.  _I am Lathbora Surana, Commander of the Grey in Fereldan._

 

Aveline blinked. "Commander of the... you... you're the Hero of Fereldan!"

 

Lathbora sighed, then nodded, erasing and writing more.  _We would appreciate any help you could give us._

 

"Of course. I'll get my men looking for this boy straight away. What's his name?" Aveline waved over a guard that had come running up to the group, too late to help.

 

"Tarleton Howe." Nathaniel frowned, stepping behind the Commander to kneel in front of Grace. "Can you track him?"

 

Grace whined, then started snuffling around the area. 

 

"Well, at least he still has Ser Pounce-a-Lot?" Alistair tried.

 

Nathaniel glared. 

 

Oghren made a rude noise. "If that cat's more help then a mabari, I'll eat my left nut!"

 

Aveline paused in her instructions to the guard. "Did... did you say Ser Pounce-a-Lot?"

 

Lathbora tilted his head at the guard. 

 

Nathaniel crossed his arms. "Yes, why?"

 

"I... never mind, it's not important." Aveline shook her head.  _More like it isn't possible._ "I'll help you search. Has your mabari found anything?"

 

Grace lifted his head up just enough for it to droop. He whined, ears falling. 

 

Lathbora went and patted him on the head, looking around. It seemed they would have to search the old fashioned way.

 

* * *

 

 

Tarly sniffled, huddled in an alleyway and holding his scraped knee close. He had slipped running down some stairs, trying to get away from the scary man that yelled and tried to cut him. 

 

Ser Pounce mewed, coming to rub against the boy's side.  _Well, it could have been worse._

 

"I want to go home, Pounce!" the boy didn't even reach to pet the cat. 

 

Ser Pounce sat, and yowled pitifully.  _Come on now, you said you were brave, remember?_

 

Tarly sniffled again, burying his head against his knees. He started crying in earnest, sobbing and holding his legs close.

 

Ser Pounce was about to yowl again when his ear flicked to the side. Was that... humming? The cat looked back at the boy, then padded down the alley. 

 

Indeed, it had been humming. An elven woman dressed in green was humming as she walked along, a basket of herbs and food under one arm. 

 

The cat mewed, stepping in front of her. 

 

"Oh! Well, would you look at that!" The elf leaned down in front of him, reaching out to scratch his ears. "You're a handsome lad, aren't you? Oh, I have a friend that would just love you; he's always going on about cats, you know. Leaves milk out for them, even though I've never seen a cat in Darktown. Much too dangerous for your kind there."

 

Ser Pounce purred appreciatively. Yes, he was quite handsome, and thank you for noticing. Then he shook his head. There was still work to do, after all. This elf seemed intelligent, to notice his greatness, and so he padded a bit down the alley. He paused, then looked at her and mewed.

 

"Do you have something to show me, little one?"

 

Ser Pounce nodded, mewing again before continuing down the alley.

 

The elf followed behind. "Well, all right, but I'm afraid I must be getting back to - by the Creators!"

 

Tarly looked up in surprise at the proclamation.

 

Ser Pounce sat in front of the boy, puffing out his chest proudly. He was, after all, the greatest cat in all of Thedas.

 

The elf leaned down in front of the boy, smiling warmly. "Hello there, da'len. Are you alright? Wait, I'm sorry, of course you aren't - why would you be crying in an alley all alone if you were alright? You wouldn't; or, at least, I wouldn't - maybe you would. Um, sorry, I'm babbling. I'm Merrill."

 

"I'm - hic - I'm Tarleton, but you can call me Tarly." The boy wiped at his eyes, sniffling loudly.

 

"Nice to meet you, Tarly. Did you have a tumble?"

 

Tarly nodded, biting his lip. After the last time a stranger had helped him, he was wary of this elf. Even if she did talk funny.

 

"Well, I have just the thing for scraped knees. Do you like chocolate, Tarly? I was just about to go home and make some hot chocolate for myself - isn't that just perfect?"

 

Tarly  _did_ like chocolate. His uncle would bring some home from Warden mission sometimes, or he'd get some from the Warden Commander - Lathbora got sent chocolate all the time. The boy nodded, getting to his feet slowly. 

 

Merrill smiled, standing up and offering him her hand. "Don't worry, da'len. We'll have you right as rain soon enough, although I can't say I know how rain can be wrong. It's a funny expression, really. But come, we'll go have some hot chocolate and then I'll take you to my healer friend. He'll fix you  _right_ up. He's very good at it. Alright?"

 

Tarly wiped at his eyes again, taking the elf's hand. "Ok."

 

Ser Pounce trailed behind the two, tail held up proudly like a banner. Tarly would get his chocolate and healing, and then they would continue searching for Anders. He supposed at some point he would have to find Grace again, too - but that could wait. One had to have priorities, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

"There we go, now, you just sit right there while I heat up some milk, Tarly. Then we'll have ourselves some hot chocolate," Merrill said, cleaning some books off one of her two chairs, "Oh, dear me, it's such a mess in here. Really, I should clean more..."

 

"I thought all grown ups cleaned their rooms," Tarleton said, gray eyes wide in surprise as he looked around the room, "Well, 'sept Oghren."

 

Ser Pounce-a-Lot snorted, leaping into Tarly's lap to comfort him,  _Oghren doesn't count as a grown up._

 

"Adults should - and I _do_ \- I just get so busy and forget sometimes," the elf continued, searching for a pot behind a precarious stack of books. She ended up knocking half to pile to the floor on accident, "Oh, dear."

 

Tarly giggled, "She's kind of funny, Ser Pounce."

 

The cat pushed up to rub against the young boy's face,  _There, see, that's better._ \

 

"Ser... Ser Pounce?" Merrill asked, turning, "As in, Ser Pounce-a-Lot?"

 

Ser's ears perked up, and he mewed.

 

"Yeah, that's my cat!" Tarly said, standing and holding up the tabby, "Well... he's not really mine. We came here to find his  _real_ owner, Anders."

 

Merrill clapped happily, "Oh! Oh! Oh, dear, that's just... well, it's a rather good coincidence - Anders is my healer friend! And he  _told_ me about Ser Pounce-a-Lot!"

 

"Really?" Tarly gaped in awe, "D'you  _really_ know Anders?"

 

Pounce wiggled free from the boy, bounding across to rub against the elf's legs, mewing,  _I_ am _the greatest cat in all Thedas!_ _I solved this mystery without even trying!_

 

Merrill nodded, stooping to scratch the cat's ears, "I do! Come on, I'll take you there right away - oh! Anders will be so excited to see you, Ser Pounce!"

 

 _Of course he will_ , the cat said.

 

Tarly giggled again, "Thank you, Miss Merrill!"

 

The elf laughed, picking up the cat and putting him on her shoulders. She held out her hand, "Come on, but stay close to me - Anders doesn't live in a very nice part of town, I'm afraid."

 

"Ok," the young Howe said, taking Merrill's hand as she led the way back out of her house, into the streets of Kirkwall.

 

* * *

 

 

Aveline hummed disapprovingly, "None of my guards have been able to find your nephew, Nathaniel. We're still looking, of course..."

 

They were in the Guard Captain's office - well, Lathbora and Nathaniel were in the office itself, while Oghren and Alistair were in the common area of the barracks. 

 

"No, I know - it's... a big city," Nathaniel said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Lathbora reached out to give his companion's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

 

Grace whined at the Commander's side, ears low. 

 

 _Don't worry, Grace,_ Dog said, at Aveline's side, _Aveline is the absolute best Guard Captain._

 

 _I believe you, but I should have stayed with Tarly,_ the white mabari replied,  _At least Ser Pounce is with him._

 

Dog whined and tilted his head,  _Who?_

 

 _My Grey Warden companion - the cat,_ Grace explained.

 

 _Well, if he's a knight_ and _a Grey Warden, I'm sure Tarly is fine,_ Dog said, tail wagging. 

 

Lathbora took out his chalkboard, writing down a quick message,  _Thank you, Aveline, but I think we're going to keep searching on our own._

 

"Wait, I... I know one more person that  _could_ help," Aveline said, then sighed, "He'd be better at searching in Darktown - he has contacts in the area. I don't think he'll try to charge anything to help find a missing boy, but-"

 

"I don't care - if there's a cost, I'll pay it," Nathaniel said.

 

Lathbora nodded to the Guard Captain in agreement.

 

Aveline nodded back, "Right, let me take you to him."

 

As the three emerged, Alistair straightened up, "So, where are we off to now?"

 

"The Hanged Man," Aveline replied, "I have a contact there that might be able to help."

 

"A contact - oh. Tethras," the former Templar replied, "That's... a good idea, probably."

 

Aveline arched a brow.

 

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, "I... may have spent some time there before moving back to Fereldan."

 

Lathbora rolled his eyes.

 

The Guard Captain decided not to probe further, shaking her head and leading on.

 

* * *

 

 

"Ow! Watch it,  _mage_ ," Fenris hissed, careful to hold his arm still. 

 

Anders rolled his eyes, "Don't be such a baby."

 

"Play nice, boys," Dandy Hawke said, browsing through the healer's stock. They were in Ander's clinic, healing up after a trip to the Wounded Coast that had ended less than ideally.

 

"Unless you want to vent your frustrations the fun way," Isabela cooed, waiting to be healed next.

 

Hawke hummed in agreement, "But only if we get to watch."

 

"That is the most vile thing either of you have suggested," Fenris spat, "As if I would ever..."

 

Anders rolled his eyes again, focusing on the long gash across the elf's arm. He was crouched down, trying to finish quickly and move on to his other patients.

 

"What? We'd let you watch," Hawke shrugged.

 

Isabela hummed, "Oh, I like that idea."

 

Hawke flashed her lover a grin.

 

Suddenly, a streak of orange burst through the clinic door, and something jumped straight onto the healer's shoulders.  

 

"What in the- Pounce?" Anders fell back, sitting on the dirt as he pulled the cat from his shoulders.

 

Ser Pounce-a-Lot mewed, wiggling forward to rub against the healer's cheek,  _Who else would it be?_

 

Anders stared incredulously a moment more, then started to chuckle - right before he burst out laughing, hugging the cat to him, "Ser Puonce-a-Lot! It  _is_ you! Oh, I missed you, you..."

 

The man would have went on, but his throat was thick with emotion. He didn't seem to notice he had started crying, cuddling and cooing at the cat that appeared equally pleased to see him.

 

"Oh! How lovely, I love happy reunions!" Merrill said, getting a little misty eyed herself as she walked into the clinic. 

 

"Mage, what are you doing?" Fenris asked, the usual vehemence lost to honest confusion. 

 

Isabela chuckled, walking over to crouch in front of the healer, "Oh, let him be, Broody - I haven't seen Sparklefingers this happy since Denerim."

 

Hawke grinned, then turned to her other companion. She regarded Tarleton Howe with an arched brow, "Who's your new friend, Merrill?"

 

The young boy ran forward a few feet, puffing out his chest proudly, "My name's Tarleton Howe! But, you can call me Tarly."

 

Hawke chuckled, and held out a hand, "Well, Tarly, I'm Hawke."

 

Tarly shook hesitantly - it was the first time an adult had offered to shake his hand. It all felt very grown up.

 

Anders seemed to get a hold on himself, letting Pounce curl around his shoulders, "I'm sorry, did you say... Howe? Tarly - Nathaniel's _nephew_ Tarelton Howe?"

 

"You know my unca Nathaniel?" the boy ran up to Anders, "You are a Grey Warden, right? Like Lathbora and my unca?"

 

Anders coughed, shakily getting to his feet, "I... yes, I was. Am. Uh... where is your uncle?"

 

"He's in Amaranthine," Tarly said, "I was just helping Pounce cause he wanted to see you again."

 

"Oh, Maker," Anders said, looking around, "You... you came here  _by yourself_?"

 

"I found him near the Alieanage," Merrill said, "Poor lad scraped his knee. Anders, could you-"

  
"Yes, yes of course," the man healed the scrape without a second thought, "I... Hawke, help."

 

"Yeah... yeah, ok. How about we take him to Varric and go get Aveline? She can be... official," Hawke said, scratching the back of her neck. 

 

Fenris rolled his eyes, standing up and strapping his sword back on.

 

The motion caught Tarly's attention, "Whoa! I didn't know anybody could carry as big a sword as Lathbora!"

 

"Who is that?" the elf asked, arching a brow at the gaping child.

 

"Lathbora Surana, Commander of the Grey," Anders supplied, scratching behind Pounce's ears, "And, you know, Hero of Fereldan."

 

"I thought the Hero was a mage?" Hawke asked.

 

Isabela draped herself on the Champion's shoulders, "He is, love - a muscly mage that carries a big sword. If you know what I mean."

 

Anders rolled his eyes, grabbing his staff and waving to Lirene, "I'm pretty sure you don't actually know that."

 

The pirate laughed, "Shows what you know, then."

 

Fenris made a disgusted noise, heading for the door instead of listening on.


End file.
